54: MORNINGS ARE FOR WINES NOT COFFEE.

Daniella's P.O.V

The day has finally dawned. I don't feel like lifting my body from this warm heavy duvet yet. I want to go on turning, stretching and sleeping more. That is not the case, because I have to wake up and go mourn a rapist for a father! Thank God he is going six feet under and I wouldn't see his face ever again. His innocent for nothing face, a face that lied about how he was sinless but deep down I know he wanted to get in between my pants and rob me of everything left. 

I stretch out my hands and I come eye to an eye with the two burnt marks that had engulfed themselves into beautiful circles. Is it funny how scars are meant to make us look ugly? I know, but these, the ones he inflicted on my hand are beautiful. They look like birthmarks and nothing like cigarette burns.

I want to get angry at that monster but my anger subsides as I realize that I only have today to see him in the dark casket. If not for show, I bet my mother could have let him rot in the morgue for all she cares. That is what I want too! He doesn't deserve a burial! People like him don't!

I pick my phone from the bedside and looked at how people keep sending their condolence.

"We are so sorry Dee,"

"Take heart dear,"

"Everything will be okay,"

"Be strong,"

"It's God's plan,"

The list goes on and on, it is now boring and bothersome. Some are not even my friends, "fuck them," my inner girl says that. 

People probably think that, since my deadbeat father is gone maybe we will be crawling and begging, but they don't know that my mother is fierce and will rise like a shooting star above all of them.

"Baby, wake up we need to do some preparations before we head to the church," says my mother as she pushes my bedroom door.

"Church?' I've never stepped my foot in that place, I don't even know how it looks like. I remember some times Clara would request me to accompany them to church, but I never did. Right now, am still against the idea of a church, 

If in the church is where you get your sins forgiven and using the blood of the lamb, they better preserve that lamb because this man has lots of sin that an innocent lamb wouldn't wash away his sin. That blood will be shed for nothing.

But, why would you give a rapist a send-off in a church? 

I hate churches now, it seems this is a place that hides pretenders and sinners, let alone murderous. 

I wanted to question it mother if it's okay for us to go to church but I didn't want to cause trouble this morning by bringing in another topic that doesn't count.

"Okay mama, I will be down in a few," I told my mother who was still at the door waiting for me to give her an answer. She closed the door and left.

I threw my covers to the other side of my room and picked my body up. I washed before heading downstairs to meet my mother.

"Daniella, we are going to use the Jacuzzi, section for some preparation," said my mother as she pointed me in the direction, its as if I don't live in the same house she is talking about.

Some preparations were going on around the house. Flowers were being arranged royally, the curtains were replaced and the marble floors were now spick and span. A guest would have thought that the newlyweds were to spend their night at this mansion. There was no evidence of mourning or a death ceremony going on.

I moved to the jacuzzi section, there were two beauticians in their white clothing's standing beside the tables. 

"Welcome miss, I will take you through the massage therapy before we do the facial cleaning." Said the lady with a sweet smile.

"I told you, people are for mourning here," I told my inner self.

"No one mourns a rapist baby girl, have fun and make sure she does your waxing properly this time," my inner self said.

I chuckled and removed my clothes. The lady mentioned for me to climb onto the massage table.

"Which waxing miss?" Asked the lady.

"Brazilian," I replied hurriedly.

I've always loved Brazilian waxing, it's more relaxing than the others. The lady was very good at her work. She made sure she was as gently as possible and I was as comfortable as possible. After waxing, she went on to massage my body, I couldn't resist the moan that escaped my mouth.

"Is it relaxing baby?" Asked my mother who was still undergoing the waxing.

"Very relaxing mama, this is the nicest preparation ever, mom," I said before burying my head in the massage table to give my beautician an easy time. I don't know why my mother wanted us to do this preparation, but I swear this is the best treatment I've ever received.

After the facial cleansing and everything else was done, we stayed in the steaming bath for a little while. Our maid brought us some drinks.

"Get Daniella some wine too, it won't kill her for today alone," chuckled my mother handing our Maid back the juice.

My wine was brought, red to be exact, 1987, he who said that 'an ageing wine tastes better,' sure didn't lie, this is what I needed for this morning. Yeah, mornings are for wine, not some black coffee you all carry in your mugs, arghhh.

"What are you going to do after the burial?" I asked my mother joyfully. I knew she was in a good mood today, I wanted to know how she will tackle everything after these little episodes are over.

"Everything is handled sweetheart, don't worry," said my mother. 

I don't know what she means by that, but I believe she had what it takes to be a great person in life.

After gulping down one glass of wine, I felt a little lightheaded. 

"Fuck!" I thought to myself. Am not supposed to look drunk at the ceremony. 

"Don't worry girl, you have shades," the girl in me calmed me down.

Why didn't I even think about that, I will wear my glasses and put on a mask and pretend to have the flu. That will give me a chance to laugh my heart out when that asshole is being laid down.

"Are you okay Baby?" Asked my mother placing her glass down.

"Yeah mum, am fine, the wine taste so divine," I bubbled in my words.

"God Dee, you are drunk," complained my mother.

"Come on mum, it's nothing, am not, it's fun," I said to her.

This reminded me of the first time I got drunk. We were partying after our school soccer won their first game. I started climbing trees and riding Vin while others were looking. the next day I was ashamed of the actions and couldn't look them in the eyes for weeks. But After sometimes things were back to normal. After that incident I became sceptical about drinking, I wanted to focus on singing so I avoided alcohol and anything related to it,  but today, I couldn't keep my hands off it, not when my mother offered it to me like a kid given her first teddy bear.

My mom helped me out of the steaming bath and took me to my room to rest before we get out.

I didn't feel like sleeping, once she was out of sight, I pushed the sheets away and picked my phone to try and look at what people had posted online.

I didn't feel alarmed or amazed that the death and the burial of my dad were trending for seven days. People were talking about his achievements, how he helped establish foundations to help people who were in need. How he built homes for the homeless. I bet this was the mum idea that he rode on like the 'king' he thought he was.

I divided my attention to Instagram since Twitter held peoples misery, I knew Instagram was the place to get my tea served hot.

I perused through it, but I hated the tea being served here today. I first came face to face with Clara's post with Damien and Davids, the second picture was her and Davids playing instruments in a restaurant while the last was the three of them inside a cab heading to I don't know where. I just liked the picture still and hated myself for liking it again.

Scrolling through the pictures, I saw Davids post, it was a video, advertising for a post on her newly created app. As much as I want to hate Davids, she is brilliant and more talented, "more than Vin?" Asked the girl in me.

"Yes, he is only talented in football and how to lure girls in his dick," I whispered slowly to her and we both chuckled.

Davids knew how to work on her ideas and thoughts. At 18 she owns an app and has been a part of architectural design for the famous building in town. 

"I know you envy her," said the girl in me.

"You bet, I hate her with passion," I told her.

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